A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) Read online

  The duke ran a hand along his balding pate. Tallen held his breath while waiting for him to speak. Tomas and Dorias stood like statues of ancient heroes, marble rooted to the ground beneath the stuffy tent. The nobles shuffled their feet, while old Baron Magdon coughed into a wadded kerchief. A drop of sweat began to run down Tallen’s back. He almost longed for the cold winds that had buffeted the army all day.

  “We will err on the side of hope,” the duke murmured at last. He then shifted his tone to one more confident. “We will cross the Andon and ride for Kirath. If there are any survivors, that is where they will flee. If the orcs have crossed the Wastes, Kirath is the first place where they can find supplies.” He rubbed his chin, shadowed by a day’s growth. “We will keep double scouts out in the field so we are not caught unawares by overwhelming numbers.” He grabbed a tumbler from a side table and poured from a carafe of bourbon. He downed it with a single gulp. “The king musters an army in the east, and each of our houses gathers more soldiers at Gavanor. We must reconnoiter the enemy before Arathan arrives. He will demand that we have information.”

  Tallen heard Dorias sigh with relief. The same feeling coursed through him.

  Quick to move forward, Tomas tapped the flimsy camp table with a clenched fist, rattling the mugs scattered there. “We must show strength.”

  The baron in onyx and ruby stood, the silver staff of his family office clutched in one hand. “The Darillas will march, Your Grace, though I do not feel this is the wisest move.”

  Baron Whitehall sniffed. “Lucky for us, Maylar, your wisdom is overruled by honor and courage.”

  Darilla sneered. “’Twas honor and courage that ruled at Highspur.”

  Duke Aginor held up his refilled glass of bourbon. “Enough. The decision is made. We must go forth to ready our men.” He placed one hand on Baron Maylar Darilla’s elbow. “Your wisdom is not unheard.”

  Baron Darilla ducked his head, but the frown did not leave his face as he left the tent. The other nobles followed, most with deeper bows for their liege. Tomas and Dorias lingered, while Tallen stood behind his friends.

  “You have chosen well, Your Grace.” Dorias bowed his head. “We cannot afford to wait for Arathan. We have already waited too long.”

  The duke stared at the wizard for a moment. “Your disrespect for His Majesty notwithstanding, Ravenhawke, do not feel that because your counsel has won today that it will do so tomorrow.”

  Tallen followed the heroes in their swift bow and exit. He heard the clink of glass before the flap fell behind him.

  Tallen drew a long breath in through his nose, feeling the air fill his lungs. He exhaled, his mind distant as he wandered through a mist of Psoul magic. It spread out from the small tent in which he sat, legs crossed on a Hadonese rug. Tomas and Dorias both sat nearby, but he only knew them as vague impressions of themselves, ghostly patterns in his mind’s eye.

  “I am with you as well,” the paladin called to him, his voice distant and hollow to Tallen’s ears. “What you sense now is very similar to my ability to detect the psahn in other life forms around me.”

  Dorias’ voice hovered no closer. “I’m fairly certain Tallen can reach much farther than I can. Let’s see if he can surpass even you. Go ahead Tallen.” His voice dropped almost beyond perception. “Stretch your power as far as you can.”

  Pushing out with Psoul magic, Tallen soon discovered other patterns surrounding the tent. First came the soldiers, officers, and nobles of the Western Realm camped around them, their patterns bright with intelligence and will. The human forms sharpened, and soon he felt larger patterns not quite as luminous. A solid, comfortable feel radiated from them.

  “The horses,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Dorias called from across a chasm of power. “Other animals will appear to you as well. Some Dreamers can sense trees and bushes, though I have never felt the life force of a tree, save once, and that was a very special tree.”

  His power extended for almost a half a mile before Tallen no longer felt humans or their companion creatures within the camp. Out in the patchwork fields surrounding the Free Cities, only a rare human appeared to his senses, most having the sense to seek the protection of fortified walls at the rumor of armies roving throughout the countryside.

  Here and there, a herd of deer moved, or a pack of wolves hunted. Tallen felt their skittish fear and feral cunning. Behind the camp, to the east, he sensed the headwaters of the Andon River, teeming with life both in the water and along the banks. Tallen reached out further, and he discovered a hamlet where a dozen people clustered together.

  “We should warn them to head for Novon,” Tallen mumbled almost to himself.

  Dorias’ voice sparked with curiosity. “Who?”

  “A group of villagers almost five miles from here.” Tomas’ voice somehow seemed closer than the wizard’s. “But to the south. Tallen, are you reaching out in a circle, touching every direction at once?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I feel the Andon River behind us, and a lone wolf to our west. The hamlet is to our south, but I sense very little to the north.”

  Tallen thought he heard Dorias gasp. “You can sense five leagues in every direction at once?” Distantly, he felt the wizard touch his shoulder. “Try closing that in, Tallen. Reach out only to our west, toward the city of Kirath. It is about fifteen miles hence. If you can touch that city, you do challenge Tomas for distance.” Dorias removed his hand. “Then you can spin that extended perception in a circle about you in order to sweep the entire area.”

  Refocusing his energies, Tallen turned his perception strictly to the west in a much more narrow arc. With his senses focused, the images in his mind sharpened, resolving into recognizable shapes. The people had features and the animals substance. He felt fear and anxiety radiating from both. As he stretched, a sudden presence of anger caught at the edge of his strength. A great cluster of life writhed about in rage mixed with glee. Tallen felt Tomas’ senses arrive there not long after his.

  This time the paladin gasped. “Orcs have taken the city.” He paused. “I believe I sense refugees fleeing southward, but some of the people remain in Kirath. I can sense the slaughter...”

  Tallen could not tell one life from another. They spun about in a chaotic whirlpool of patterns. The emotions that rose from those patterns turned his stomach, and he withdrew with a shudder. As he did, a small band of people appeared, just a few miles closer than the city. He focused on them and drew his senses into a tight beam of Psoul magic.

  “Wait!” He held his breath. “I…I think that’s Jaerd!”

  He felt the presence of Tomas’ power alongside his own, searching the cluster of patterns.

  “It is!” Even the stoic paladin could not hide excitement in his voice. “Boris, Joslyn Britt, and several others are there as well.”

  Tallen leaped to his feet, Tomas not far behind. They hurried out of the tent, closely followed by Dorias. Tallen knew only the sense of his brother’s life pattern, hovering at the edge of his perception a few leagues away.

  “We have to get out there!” His heart pounded in his ears. A flutter of excitement and anxiety hovered in his throat. “We have to get to them!” Other officers and nobles peeked out from nearby tents or looked up from gazing into campfires. “I need to get Stew saddled.”

  Tomas called to a guard captain, and within minutes a company of lancers had mounted, ready to ride. Tallen sat in Stew’s saddle for what seemed an eternity while the soldiers prepared. Thoughts of riding out alone swirled in his head next to his sense of Jaerd and the others, when at last the soldier saluted to Tomas.

  Dorias leaned from his seat on Shade’s back. “Patience is the hardest lesson to learn for a powerful wizard. But we will not regret these men’s aid if a pack of orcs find us in the dark.” Merl squawked agreement from Dorias’ shoulder, and Gwelan Whitehand signaled from his saddle
not far away.

  In the orange torchlight cast by the soldiers, Tallen picked out Duke Aginor speaking with Tomas. The duke sent several of his aides running. Tomas then waved at the captain, and the column set off. Tallen pushed Stew to the front, Dorias bringing Shade close behind.

  Tomas led the company in a direct line toward where Tallen still sensed his brother moving closer at a steady pace. As they neared, his Psoul magic discerned their horses and a large wolfhound moving among them. Brawny made it out, too.

  Tallen’s anxiety grew as the miles passed. Jaerd’s presence hovered in the distance, and it did not close as quickly as he desired. The black night turned to light gray before a pinkish hue pulled the sun over the eastern horizon. Once they closed to a few hundred yards, Tallen sensed his brother’s scattered thoughts through the haze of his Psoul magic, tense and full of apprehension.

  Tomas called for a halt along a slow flowing gully, and in moments, a ragged, tired band emerged from it. They led their horses, and a muddy hound led them.

  “Jaerd!” Tallen jumped from his saddle and charged forward, releasing his grip on the Psoul Aspect for the first time since sensing his brother.

  “Tallen.” Jaerd spread his face in a wide smile. “I should have known it would be you who found us.”

  Tallen threw his arms around his brother, both clapping each other on the back. A sense of relief washed away his exhaustion. Tears threatened to well up, but the warmth of his brother’s strong embrace calmed them. He stepped back, an unabashed grin spreading across his face. He turned to the others close by, each as unshaven and unkempt as Jaerd.

  “Earl Boris,” Tallen bowed his head, his knowledge of Boris’ parentage giving him a renewed respect for his old travelling companion. “It is good to see you safe.”

  Tomas reached out an eager hand. “Indeed it is, my friend.”

  Tallen heard a low huff and ducked his head toward the Bluecloak Battlemage. “Magus Britt. I have learned and done so much since you last taught me. I can’t wait to show you.” He looked at the others and gave Tilli a smile of greeting. When his scan passed over the cloaked young woman, his heart missed a beat and he gasped. “Dawne!”

  For a moment he could not unlock his stare from hers. The shock that ripped through his senses paralyzed him, and he could not catch his breath. She ducked her head meekly, even though a soft grin hid along her lips.

  “Hello, Tallen…surprise, I guess.”

  He searched for words, none coming to his mind. He stammered. The logic of how his sister stood there escaped him. His thoughts froze, and only a few words escaped his lips. “Mother is going to kill me.”

  Dorias cleared his throat. “Family greetings notwithstanding…” The wizard stepped toward Boris. “What happened at Highspur? What has happened to Kirath?”

  Boris shook his head, a dark cloud on his features despite the rising dawn. “Highspur has fallen. For all I know, we are her only survivors.” He looked warily over his shoulder. “Kirath is being sacked as we speak. We were able to get most of the civilians out. They are headed to Novon under the protection of a somewhat capable watch captain and his militia. We decided to head directly for Gannon to bring word of events.” Boris clenched his hands. “The orc horde has Kirath’s food stores now, packed granaries to feed them all the way to Gavanor.”

  Though most of the others stood in silent shock, Tomas Harte strove ahead. “How many?”

  “At least twenty thousand warriors at Kirath,” Boris stated flatly. “Ten times that many at Highspur.”

  The silence hung even heavier over the group.

  “We cannot handle that many with the army we brought from Gavanor.” Dorias’ concerned expression deepened as he spoke. “Especially if they dig in. And if the orcs create a base of supply, they can wreak havoc all over the Free Cities and the Western Realm.” He shook his head. “We cannot let them have it.” He tapped his shaven upper lip. “Granaries, you say… If I remember correctly, they are close together, stuck behind the mayor’s wall.” He scrutinized Magus Britt first, and then Tallen. “Perhaps I have an idea, but I will need both of you to help me.”

  Earl Boris narrowed his brow. “Will you require an escort? We need to get what men you have to Novon. That is where the refugees will gather. That is where we will have to stop them.”

  Dorias pointed toward Tomas Harte and Gwelan Whitehand. “I’ll need no more than usual, My Lord Earl.”

  Boris inclined his head. “Then I will go with these men to pass on our news to Duke Aginor.”

  The silent elf, a coal black patch over his eye, stepped forward. “I will continue on toward Valen. We must prepare for the coming storm.”

  The Hadoner followed suit. “As must I.” He looked at the elf. “Perhaps we can travel together as far as Daynon, where we both might take ship to our homelands.” Gael nodded in return.

  Tallen turned to look at his brother and sister. Mixed emotions of surprise and joy swam through his heart. He could not help the dumb smile that he knew spread across his face.

  Jaerd frowned at Dawne. “I will see that she gets to the Bardic College in Kerrigier. Then I will remain with Boris’ command.” He leaned in close to Tallen. “Whatever the wizard has planned, be careful. Things are…changing, Tallen. I don’t want events to consume you. I am committed to seeing you both safely through this war.”

  Dawne waved goodbye from horseback as the company of Gavanor soldiers headed back the way they had come. Tallen returned the gesture, his head aching to hold back tears of relief and startled joy. Jaerd grinned in his direction and pulled his horse closer to Dawne. Tallen sniffed against the cold and his emotions, pulling together his composure with a few deep breaths.

  “Come along,” Dorias called to him while the others mounted. “We will definitely need your strength if I’m going to pull this off.”

  Kirath rested on a hill in the near distance, quite a few fires dotting its low skyline. A pale haze of greasy smoke hung low over several quarters. The rancid stench drifted to Tallen’s nose, where the party sat mounted on a ridgeline. Orcs swarmed through the city, while red and black banners marked with animal symbols flew over the mayor’s keep. The mid-morning sun showed a line of bodies nailed to the wooden slats of the granaries.

  “Before the end I assume Mayor Kodi finally believed the orcs were coming,” Magus Britt grumbled.

  Tomas Harte shook his head while still in his trance. “I am only sensing orcs in the city, though things are far too chaotic to tell for certain.”

  Shifting in Stew’s saddle, Tallen raised a tentative hand. “I could try.”

  Dorias shook his head in the negative. “I don’t want you to waste your power right now, Tallen. We are going to need all of it to do what I’m about to attempt.” He looked at Joslyn Britt. “If it weren’t for your exceptional skills in Fire, Magus, I doubt this would even be possible. It will take the combined strength of all three of us.” Merl cawed from the bare branch of a nearby oak tree. “All four of us…”

  Britt lifted a shaggy eyebrow. “And just what do you propose to do?”

  Swinging down from Shade’s saddle to land lightly on the ground, Dorias began to remove his riding gloves. “Eliminate those granaries from the orcs’ possession, and stop this advance army from wreaking any more havoc.”

  Tallen gawked at the distance between them and the granaries, wondering what they could possibly do. “How?”

  The wizard signaled for them to join him. “By destroying everything myself.” He looked to Tomas and Gwelan. “If you gentlemen would keep watch for me, we will be quite incapacitated for a few minutes.”

  Gwelan already had both of his swords bared. “Don’t worry, my friend. We know our jobs.”

  Dorias signaled both Tallen and Magus Britt to come closer. “I will need you to open your power to me. I am not strong in Fire, but the two of you are burning w
ith it. I can use Psoul to direct the power from the three of us. My…connection with Merl will help me to focus.”

  Britt opened his mouth a crack, appearing on the edge of argument, but at last he relented, closed his eyes, and took on the peaceful expression of meditation.

  Tallen felt a stab of nervous excitement. “What do I do?”

  Dorias patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry lad, I’ve done this many times. All you need to do is place yourself on the edge of embracing your power. Don’t quite touch the Fire, but come to its very edge.” His raptor gaze focused on the distant city. “I will handle it from there.”

  Taking a deep breath, Tallen folded his hands, unable to avoid a dry swallow. He shut his eyelids and opened himself to his power, a move as natural to him these days as taking a drink of water. The five Aspects sang out, each with its own melody, crossing over each other like the chorus of a grand musical. Fire’s crispy tenor flared before him, and he hovered, ready to pull it in.

  He heard Dorias sigh. “Alright then. Here we go.”

  Tallen sensed the wizard touch Psoul, even through the choir of his own intense power. The silvery Aspect washed over him, and Tallen could feel Dorias’ comforting presence. A moment later, he sensed Magus Britt, gripped in the same web of Psoul magic. From a seeming great distance, he could feel Merl, a sparkling point of magic.

  “Brace yourselves.”

  The Fire leaped through Tallen, the entire burst channeled by a funnel of Dorias’ Psoul magic. His breath escaped him for a moment before he forced the air back into his lungs. He sensed Joslyn Britt’s Fire Aspect as well, nearly as raging a torrent as his own. The two great powers met, and then Tallen felt Merl’s presence as a sort of intersection point for the streams of power. Dorias added his own meager skill in Fire, then directed his pipeline of Psoul Aspect out toward the city.